Sebastian saw it, and his heart ached to think what had caused it.
Perhaps John Faust saw it as well, or perhaps he’d just really meant what he’d said, because he let out a deep sigh and spread his hands wider, baring himself in a show of vulnerability.
“I see now that my methods could have been...different. Perhaps this was not the best way to achieve my goal. I may have made some mistakes, and I am willing to consider a different path. I have never meant you harm, Daughter, whether you believe me or not.”
Lily’s jaw flexed and she didn’t respond. Sebastian sincerely hoped she wasn’t swallowing a word of the man’s ridiculous speech. Okay, so his truth coin wasn’t burning ‘liar, liar, pants on fire’ in his pocket, but he didn’t need a hunk of metal to tell him that this man was a snake and not to be trusted.
“If you had just listened—” John Faust broke off with a glance at Mrs. Singer, then continued, his words less intense. “Things might have turned out differently, but since this is the way things are, then let us make the best of it. Morgan is dead—the threat is gone. So let us stop this pointless infighting.”
“She’s not.”
Everyone spun at Mallory’s harsh words. She ignored their looks of shock as she shoved past them and crouched down to slap a heavy pair of iron manacles on her father’s wrists. She didn’t look at John Faust while she did it, nor did she react to his grimace as the iron clamped tightly onto his skin.
“What do you mean she’s not?” Lily was the first to ask.
Mallory rose from her crouch and put distance between her and her father without turning her back to him. “Those should put a damper on his magic, but they probably won’t stop him if he really wants to get away. Don’t forget that.” Finally, she looked at Lily. “Morgan is not dead. Her body is gone.”
There were several gasps. Then, John Faust finally moved, his chains clinking as he pushed himself upright.
“Don’t be absurd, girl. I stabbed her in both her kidneys—”
“And I threw two grenades at her face,” Sebastian chimed in.
“Her body is gone,” Mallory repeated. “So is the body of one of the witches, the younger blond guy. No bodies, no kill confirmation.”
“That’s impossible,” Mrs. Singer whispered, her face turning pale.
“Unfortunately, we cannot know that for sure.” Aunt B was still leaning heavily against Sebastian, but at least her voice sounded stronger. “There was enough blood that I cannot imagine how anyone could survive. But we do not know the capabilities of the demon she has allied with. Either way, we cannot change it, and so we must focus on more urgent matters.” Aunt B paused, then, and gave John Faust a look of razor-sharp steel. “Regardless of your intentions, LeFay, your actions have precipitated an incident that now endangers all of wizardkind. We must move swiftly to ensure the mundanes do not get an inkling of what has transpired here tonight.”
“Of course, Ethel. Now, if you would remove these shackles, I am just as eager as you to clean up this mess.”
“No.”
“No?” John Faust’s brow furrowed.
“This has gone beyond a family matter. A wizard is dead, LeFay. A Silvester is dead.”
Sebastian’s eyes flicked down to his aunt as his eyebrows rose. Were these wizards Mrs. Singer’s relatives? That would make sense, given their similar appearances and mannerisms.
John Faust’s face blanched at Aunt B’s statement, but otherwise Sebastian saw not a scrap of remorse in the wizard’s expression as Aunt B continued in a tone as cold as ice.
“You have a potential blood feud on your hands, and you studied enough history to know exactly where that will lead. Wizards have grown too few to allow that to happen. That isn’t even taking into account all the damage you’ve done to a mundane facility, as well as being responsible for the death of a member of the United States federal government. No, LeFay, you have gone too far this time. The Stewards have been informed of the situation and have called for a Convocation. As the Stewards’ representative in this, I formally place you under binding—”
This time John Faust’s reaction was considerably more pronounced. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed and he clenched his jaw as he listened in tense silence. Aunt B’s words carried magical power in them as well as authority, and she spoke without a shred of hesitation.
“—to cast no magic until this matter is settled at the Convocation and judgment has been rendered. If you break this binding, whether through fault or negligence, you will be declared an enemy to wizardkind and will be dealt with accordingly. Do you understand?”
“I do,” John Faust said, the skin around his eyes very tight.
With John Faust’s acknowledgement, something seemed to snap into place, and the two Silvester wizards relaxed.
Sebastian and Mallory did not.
Neither did Lily or Mrs. Singer.
“Nicolas, will you and Gregorio escort Mr. LeFay to the front of the warehouse while I contact the local caretakers and set up a temporary portal? We will need to send someone to the security office to wipe the tapes, and then this entire warehouse will need to be emptied and purged.” Aunt B’s crisp voice continued from there, snapping out commands with the ease and confidence of a military officer. They made her sound so stalwart, and if Sebastian only listened to her voice instead of noticing how bony her frail body felt leaning against his, he could pretend like she didn’t look one spell away from collapsing again.
Both Mallory and Sir Kipling volunteered themselves to join the two weary Silvesters in escorting John Faust, though not before Sir Kipling gave Lily a thorough rub on the legs. The feline looked up at her for a moment as if assessing whether or not he dared to part with her, but finally trotted off after the prisoner procession.
Sebastian understood how he felt.
As the group moved to pass him, Sebastian shot out a hand and grabbed John Faust by the wrist, yanking him away from his escort. Before the wizard could break his hold, Sebastian had tugged his Ring of Cacophony off the man’s finger and closed his fist around the circle of metal.
John Faust jerked back and opened his mouth as if to fling a spell at Sebastian.
Not one to pass up a perfect opportunity, Sebastian punched him in the face.
“Sebastian!”
“Nephew!”
“That was for what you did to Lily,” Sebastian gritted out, ignoring the cries of alarm behind him. He stepped in close, voice dropping low. “And if you ever hurt her again, I’ll kill you.”
John Faust’s eyes flashed and his jaw flexed, but the next moment he caught himself and relaxed—well, his body relaxed. His eyes remained harder than adamant and his reply was so low that only Sebastian could hear it.
“Not if I kill you first, boy.”
Red flashed in Sebastian’s vision and he flexed his fingers, suddenly overwhelmed by every bit of pent-up rage and hatred he held for this man. But then Nicolas jerked John Faust’s arm and pulled him away. After a dozen paces down the aisle, John Faust finally broke eye contact and turned toward the front of the warehouse, following sullenly after his escort.
Sebastian shook with the need to make John Faust suffer, just as he’d promised Chief he would. But instead of lunging after the man, he slipped his Ring of Cacophony back on his finger where it belonged and let out a long, slow breath as a wave of calm washed through him. He made a mental note to never, ever relax his guard around that man. He also resolved to someday, somehow, pry answers from John Faust’s recalcitrant throat and find out once and for all what the wizard knew about the Blackwoods, the Blackwells, and anything else connected to Sebastian’s family. It was undoubtedly a mistake to dig into his family’s past—it was better left dead and buried where it belonged. And besides, he’d made a promise, all those years ago. But he also knew himself well enough that, if the opportunity presented itself, he would likely take it regardless of the consequences.
After their prisoner was gone, Lily and Mrs. Sin
ger kept Sebastian silent company as he slowly helped Aunt B back out into the warehouse’s open floor and into one of the chairs by the wall. The remaining Silvester wizard, a woman whose weary face was a hard mask of grief, had mercifully draped bed sheets over the body of her fallen relative and over Richard’s remains. The center of the circle where Morgan had lain was as bloody as Sebastian remembered but, just as Mallory had said, was empty of Morgan. More bodies lay within the circle, however. None of the witches had been protected by wards when Morgan’s spell had exploded, and every single one of them had been felled by it. Roger’s withered remains, barely recognizable as anything more than a pile of bones, lay where he had fallen, and so the only witch unaccounted for was Cassius. Considering that all the other witches had been killed by magical concussion, Sebastian could only hope Cassius had been too, and that his body would not be showing up again in any state but very, very dead. There were other, more important matters to think about than a missing body, however.
It was Sir Kipling who found the ring.
The blast had thrown it off the now-pulverized table that had sat in the middle of the circle, and the ring had rolled away under one of the beds pushed up against the wall of the warehouse. The cat had crawled under the bed and batted the ring out into the open with a meow of triumph. But when one of the Silvesters bent to pick it up, they were stopped by Aunt B’s cry of warning. She explained that it could be extremely volatile and not to handle it, so they rummaged among the shelves until they found a suitable case to lock it away in.
Sebastian ached with the need to be near Lily, to wrap her in his arms and bury his face in her hair. But he was afraid of how she might react, and with everything she’d just been through, she probably wanted some space. And besides, there was something he needed to do. Reluctantly, he left her to keep watch over Aunt B while the old woman both organized the cleanup and started contacting other wizards on what was obviously another porthole.
He went in search of the Book of Names.
The open warehouse floor between the gigantic circle and the start of the shelves was a mess of debris—piles of fallen boxes, broken crates, and overturned tables. It took some digging, but he finally found the tome underneath a mess of splintered packing crates. It had obviously been on top of them, carelessly set there by one of the witches in Morgan’s thrall, before the blast of magic had knocked everything over. When he picked it up, his skin crawled in revulsion, as if the tome were covered in an invisible film of evil. He brought it gingerly back over to Lily and his aunt and set it on top of the case containing the ring. He planned to return it to Thiriel eventually, but for now it needed to be locked away along with the ring.
Sir Kipling trotted up, having just left John Faust under the vigilant—and possibly murderous—eye of Mallory. Sebastian found he couldn’t dredge up a single iota of worry on the wizard’s behalf, though he worried plenty about Mallory. What must she be going through? She always seemed so emotionless and in control, but Sebastian knew from experience those qualities usually hid a damaged and bleeding interior.
Putting Mallory’s emotional state aside, Sebastian nodded in approval when Sir Kipling hopped up on top of the pile of Extremely Dangerous Things Not To Be Let Out Of Sight and settled down in a watchful crouch—he seemed unaffected by whatever malevolence the artifacts emanated. Now that Sebastian’s eyes were on him, the cat sent up a little stream of golden letters.
GO TO HER. SHE NEEDS YOU.
Sebastian’s brows drew together and he glanced over to where Lily stood busy conversing with Aunt B. He resisted the urge to tell Sir Kipling to mind his own business even as his heart leapt at the cat’s suggestion. But how could he approach Lily when things still felt so unsettled and there were urgent matters to attend to? Her mind was probably on a million other things, the very last of which was him.
He shook his head at the cat, afraid the time wasn’t right.
LOOK AT HER, STUPID WITCH. LOOK. AT. HER.
Gaze sharpening, Sebastian turned his eyes on Lily where she stood, back to him, deep in conversation with his aunt. And he looked. Really looked. Only then did he see the way her stiff shoulders were hunched protectively inward, and the way she leaned heavily on the back of Aunt B’s chair, her knuckles white where she gripped it. He even spotted the little tremor of her arm that she was clearly fighting to suppress.
He was such an idiot.
Here he was, getting all bent out of shape worrying about himself and if the moment was right for him when he should have been worrying about her.
The embers of protective need he’d been trying to suppress roared to life, and he strode forward, jaw set. As he arrived at Lily’s side, figures appeared nearby, entering the warehouse through a portal Aunt B had cast while being supported by the oldest-looking Silvester wizard—either Nicolas or Gregorio, he wasn’t sure which was which. The portal probably connected to some wizard enclave or another. He had no idea how it all worked, but he was no longer surprised by his aunt’s numerous and mysterious connections. She had lived a long life, and could never be accused of being unprepared.
Taking advantage of the convenient distraction, Sebastian waved the wizards over to Aunt B, confident they could handle things well enough without him and Lily for a bit. Then he took his friend firmly but gently by the elbow and drew her away from the group toward the rows of shelves.
“Wait, w-what are you doing, Sebastian?”
“Getting you some breathing room.”
“I—I don’t—there’s no need—”
“You’re in shock, and Aunt B has multiple competent wizards to order around. They can do without you for a little while.”
His logic unassailable—or more likely she was just too dazed to assail it—Lily fell silent as he drew her between two long rows of shelves and pressed deeper, away from the noise, the lingering smell of sulfur and blood, and the sight of bodies covered by sheets. Near the end of the row, he found a convenient, waist-high crate, and without a word he led Lily to it and turned her around, then grasped her firmly by the waist and boosted her up on it. She gasped in surprise and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, then let out a half-sigh, half-chuckle of embarrassment as she relaxed onto the crate’s surface. The height of the crate meant their eyes were almost level as he stood in front of her, now holding both her hands and searching her face.
She met his gaze, her sky-blue eyes glistening in the diffused light from the front of the warehouse. After a moment, her stiff mask finally softened, then fell away as her brows pinched in anguish and her lips trembled. All Sebastian could feel in that moment was immeasurable tenderness, the need to drink in her sorrow until there was none left to mar her beautiful face.
A single tear spilled down her cheek, then another, and he could feel the pent-up tension trembling through her fingers.
SHE NEEDS YOU, Sir Kipling had said.
He was acutely aware of how his heart thumped wildly against his ribs. This was it. This was the moment of choice, and he could no longer afford to give in to uncertainty or fear.
So he took that last step, closing the distance between them and sliding his arms under hers and around her back to draw her gently into his embrace. She melted into him with a shudder and buried her face in his neck to hide from the world as she finally let go. Muffled sobs escaped from her as her whole body shook with the tremors of shock. Sebastian wished he could do something, anything, to stop it. But he knew the trauma of what she had seen, suffered, and lost needed to work itself out in the ways the human body had been built to cope with. It might be painful, but at least she wasn’t suppressing everything like he had for all those years.
So Sebastian just stood there and held her. He pressed his lips to her hair and murmured comforting words while the strength of her grip on him worked its own healing balm, soothing his uncertainty. It didn’t do much for his bruised ribs, but he endured the pain gladly. He distracted himself with the intoxicating smell of her—jasmine from her shampoo
and a refreshing waft of herbs and spices from all that tea drinking and scone baking she did. Not even several days of unconsciousness and multiple battles with the forces of darkness could dim her splendor.
After a long time, the storm finally subsided and Lily’s grip relaxed. Sebastian squashed his disappointment, loathing every inch of space between them as she pulled back and looked into his face.
“You came for me,” she whispered, tears still glistening on her cheeks.
“Of course I did, you silly goose,” Sebastian said, and she rewarded his gently teasing words with a wet smile. He adopted a dignified expression. “I’ll have you know, milady, that I am a knight in shining armor.”
Lily pulled back farther, taking in his bruised and dirty state, and was unable to hold back her giggle.
“Okay, so a knight in slightly dirty sweatpants,” Sebastian amended.
“Only slightly?” she teased back, though her voice was still thick with emotion. She let go of him with one hand to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. “I’m surprised you didn’t come riding in on a moldy couch or something.”
“Hm, good idea for next time. Not that you actually needed me or anything,” Sebastian said, affecting an exasperated tone. “You mopped things up just fine on your own.”
“Oh, no. No, no. Sebastian, it was you. You were the one who woke me up.”
“I—I was?”
“Yes.” Lily’s eyes softened and she lifted her hand to gently, almost timidly, touch his cheek. “I heard you in...wherever that spell was keeping me. I was searching for a way out, and I heard you calling. I followed your voice, heard you say—” She paused, overcome, but Sebastian nodded in understanding.
“Well, they say the truth will set you free, right?” he said.
Lily laughed. The sound was warm and full of joy, and it lifted a weight that had been crushing him for so long he barely remembered what it felt like to be free of it.
“That’s not quite how it works, but bonus points for trying, Mr. Smarty Pants.”
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Identity Page 36